


Unwelcome Visitors

by DarylDixonGrimes



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M, Nipple Play, Rickyl, Sex, bottom!daryl, probably some kind of warning for people who are creeped out by bugs?, the bugs and the sex aren't at the same time, top!rick, unconventional lube
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 13:11:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4788422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarylDixonGrimes/pseuds/DarylDixonGrimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Rick's doing his daily rounds at the prison, he catches a glimpse of Daryl spinning in circles in his cell, which is a pretty damn confusing thing for Daryl to be doing. When our faithful leader goes to investigate, he discovers that the hunter needs his help with a little unwanted guest. Smut eventually ensues. </p><p>The timeline is a little fuzzy, but the idea is that there's a period of time between the arrival of the Woodbury people and farmer Rick where he's still in the leadership position. I'd imagine he had to think about his choice a little, and given that he's Rick and has trouble relinquishing control, I'm going on the assumption that took him a hot minute. *shrug*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unwelcome Visitors

Rick had his daytime rounds in the prison down to an exact science by the time the former Woodbury residents finished settling. He'd start his day with breakfast, and then make his way through the newly-inhabited block, then through the kitchens to check on their amateur chefs. If it was a nice day, he'd go through the yard and check on the people doing laundry and cleaning meat from the snares or one of Daryl's hunts. No matter the weather though, a round always culminated on him checking in on his family, spending a little more time in their own block than he did anywhere else.

Rinse. Repeat.

It had been Hershel's idea. They had a lot of new people, new people who had been living relatively cushy lives before moving there. They were going to have concerns. They were going to have complaints.

“A leader needs to be present, Rick. He needs to care,” the old man had said. And Rick agreed. Besides, it was better than sitting around and dwelling on what they'd all lost. Even though he ended up dwelling anyway. Truthfully, he needed a break. But this world wasn't much for giving those anymore. 

He traipsed through the prison on his second round of the day—he usually did three or four. Some light-haired woman from Woodbury wanted them to look for brighter fabrics out on the runs so they could make the place “less dreary.” The cooks were out of paprika, and that was apparently a big deal. Laundry people were nearly out of soap. Carol was sharpening knives. Daryl was spinning in circles in his cell. Beth had Ju- Wait.

Rick stopped abruptly and took a few steps backward, his boots echoing on the catwalk. He peeked through the slit in Daryl's curtain again to verify what his brain had told him he'd seen. And lo and behold, the hunter was definitely spinning in circles. He had his pants down slightly—Rick tried to ignore the way his throat tightened at the flash of pale flesh, especially since Daryl seemed to be trying to reach his own ass with his knife blade which wasn't remotely sexy. 

“Uh, Daryl,” Rick said.

Daryl's head shot up to the gap in his curtain. He snatched his pants up and glared at Rick.

“The hell you want, Grimes?” Daryl asked, grumbling something that sounded a lot like “damn peeping Tom.”

Which meant that he had to be irritated, because Daryl never called him 'Grimes' unless he was exceedingly frustrated or exceedingly pissed off.

“You need some help with, uh, what are you doing exactly?”

Daryl huffed and practically tore down the curtain as he swept it open. He grabbed Rick and pulled him inside, throwing the makeshift door closed behind him.

“Guess you can help since you're here,” Daryl said. And Rick's brain automatically went in twenty different directions, all of them wrong. God, how had he let himself fall like this? He told himself after ending his affair with Shane that he wouldn't do it again. But there he'd been, falling for Daryl since the rooftop, all while trying his fucking hardest to stay loyal to a wife who clearly didn't fucking love him anymore.

But she's gone. She's gone and you don't have to try anymore.

He shook the thought away.

“Alright,” Rick said. Because he didn't trust himself to say anything else.

“If you tell anyone about this though, I'll throw you off the damn guard tower,” Daryl said. Rick's mind went twenty more wrong directions imagining what Daryl wanted to do that he couldn't talk about after, and he nodded.

“Well, what is it then?”

Daryl sighed.

“Picked up a tick, probably out on a hunt,” he said, and then he pulled his pants back down, lifting his shirt up with his other hand. Rick did his best to pretend he didn't notice Daryl's ass, pale and smooth and round. He had imagined it tons in spite of how much he'd told himself not to, but he had never expected it to be so perfect.

Well, almost perfect.

There was a tick in the middle of the hunter's right buttock, and it must have been there for a while based on the size of it.

“Why didn't you just go to Hershel?” Rick asked.

“Just a tick. Can handle a tick.”

“Well, you did a good job,” Rick said.

“Fuck you. Just get it off of me.” Daryl handed him his knife and a lighter.

“Maybe you should lay down,” Rick said. Daryl nodded and crawled onto his cot, settling face-down onto the thin mattress while Rick let the tip of the knife heat up in the flame of the hunter's scavenged Zippo.

When tip of the metal glowed red hot, Rick squatted down next to the bed and pressed it against the small insect. Daryl hissed quietly at the proximity of the heat.  

It took a lot of wiggling and another heating of the knife blade, but Rick finally managed to pull the thing free of Daryl's skin. He killed it pretty unceremoniously and tossed it into Daryl's small pile of garbage.

“Thanks,” Daryl said, already hitching his pants back up, and Rick found himself filled with regret for not somehow taking longer. Not that removing a tick was really sexy, not even remotely. But Daryl... Daryl was.

God, what the fuck was wrong with him?

Maybe he'd been cooped up too long.

“You're welcome,” Rick said, a second later than he should have, but whatever. He handed Daryl his knife back and left, deciding to finish out this round and immediately start another so he wouldn't lose his fucking mind.

The Woodbury people wanted to know if they could figure out how to make the shower water warmer.

God, why had it taken a fucking tick for him to get a glimpse of that elusive patch of Daryl's skin?

The cooks wanted to know if he thought they'd have any deer meat soon.

Why hadn't he ever said anything to the other man?

The clothespins they had were old and the springs were leaving rust stains on some of their clothes, God forbid.

Why was seeing half of Daryl's butt enough to fuck up his entire day?

He made it back to his family's cell block, and he couldn't help but steal a glance into Daryl's room. He was laying on his bed looking through a book of old motorcycle photos of all the things. Rick stepped back inside without thinking.

“Knock knock,” he said, when Daryl ignored him and kept flipping pages.

“Pretty sure you're supposed to do that before you come in, Rick,” Daryl said, setting the book down on the overturned milk crate he used as a night stand and sitting up. “What now?”

Great question. Yeah, Rick. What now?

“What just thinking that...” Think, Grimes, think.

“Mhm...”

“Well, since you had the tick,” Rick said.

“Mhm...”

“Well, maybe I should check and make sure there aren't any more,” he finished, and wow, sometimes the levels of his on-the-spot bullshit astounded even him.

Daryl considered it, chewing on his lip, and then, maybe because God knew that Rick Grimes needed at least one fucking thing to go right for once, the hunter nodded.

“Probably ain't a bad idea.”

“Yeah?” Rick asked, kicking himself for probably sounding just a little too excited about it. “I mean, just seemed like that other had been living rent-free for a long time.”

“Yeah,” Daryl said. “Guess I'll just...” And then he slipped off his vest and started on the buttons of his shirt. Rick had to hold his breath to keep it from coming out in a ragged huff.

Daryl pulled the shirt off and set it down on a crude wooden shelving unit he'd thrown together himself.   
  
“Top, then bottom?” Daryl asked.

Rick nodded, because he was pretty sure if he opened his mouth, all that would come out would be a quiet squeak. God, Daryl was beautiful. Sweet Lord, just look at him.

He'd seen almost everyone this way except Daryl—the closest he'd ever come was back at the farm when he'd gotten hurt, but even then there'd been bandages and blankets firmly tucked beneath armpits.   
  
“Just don't say nothin 'bout... well, you'll see.” Daryl turned around. Rick's hands immediately curled into fists.

Where Daryl's back should have been pale and smooth (save his tattoo), there was a road map of scars—deep plum-colored ones, stark white ones, ones that looked a lot like old cigarette burns.

He took a deep breath. Whoever did this was probably dead. He wanted to ask, but Daryl had told him not to. And he had a feeling that he never would've let Rick see this if he thought it would start a round of 20 (Deeply Uncomfortable) Questions.

“Well,” Daryl said, “you see anything?”

Right. He was supposed to be looking for ticks. He took a step forward and gently grabbed Daryl by the shoulders so he could shift him more into the light. Daryl complied without a fight, moving easily with the smallest tug from Rick.

Under the guise of being thorough, Rick gently touched Daryl's back, running his hand across the skin there, trying to make sure that the discoloration of an old scar was nothing more than that even though he knew it probably wasn't.

He finished by running his hands down Daryl's sides to double-check that they were clear. And then he forced himself to stop touching even though it killed him to take his hands back.

“Clear,” Rick said finally, when he realized that the hunter hadn't moved—God was Daryl shaking? Or maybe Rick was shaking and it only made it seem like the other man was.

Daryl turned around, his eyes darting between Rick and the floor.

“You, you know, gonna check the front?” Daryl asked. Rick squinted at him for a moment, but he did it anyway. He started by looking him over thoroughly, and then he touched the places where there was even a fraction of a percentage of a chance that something might be hiding. He ran the backs of his fingers through the other man's tiny patch of chest hair, and then he did the same to the patch of hair that led down into his jeans, trailing them down, down, down until he had no choice but to stop.

When he pulled them away, Daryl let out a ragged breath, so unexpected that Rick jumped at the start of it.

“Sorry,” Daryl said. “Had a chill.” But he didn't meet Rick's eyes when he said it. And now Rick was sure that Daryl was definitely shaking. Was it possible he maybe...? Well, there was one way to find out. 

He looked Daryl over again, and then taking a risk so big that he had to dig his fingernails into his palms to even deal with the thought of what the consequences might be if he was wrong, Rick leaned forward and gently brushed his lips across Daryl's nipple.

The hunter took a step back and then another and another in quick succession, not stopping until his back slammed into his shelves, sending half of his stuff crashing to the floor.

“Fucking hell,” Daryl said, standing there panting like he'd just ran a marathon instead of crossing a whole three feet of space.

“Daryl I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have... I thought you... Shit.” Rick had every intention of bolting out of there and never speaking of it again, and he prayed that was enough to keep Daryl from running right out of their lives. What the hell had he done?

“No it ain't that, it's...” Daryl trailed off. “Wanted you to do somethin. Just wasn't...”

“Just wasn't?”

“Expecting it to actually happen.” Daryl let out a huge breath. “Fuck.”

“Oh,” Rick said.

“Thought you were into ladies.”

“I am,” Rick said.

“Gonna be disappointed if you keep goin then.”

“I doubt it,” Rick said. “Never could pick just one, you know?”

“What?”

“Men. Women. My gun takes more than one kind of bullet, if you get the idea.”

“Oh,” Daryl said, still backed against his shelf, chest heaving. “But why would you, you know, want me?”

Because you're gorgeous and sexy and strong and fiercely loyal and you've always been my secondhand man and really we should've done this before?

“Why wouldn't I?” Rick asked. “It's been you for so long, it feels like it always has been.”

“Mm.” Daryl nodded.

“You gonna come back over here?” Rick asked.

Daryl nodded some more and made his way back to where Rick stood like he was in a daze.

“We don't have to do anything you don't want to do, Daryl.”

“I know.”

“Just tell me when to stop.”

“Never?”

Rick smiled and leaned down to brush his lips on Daryl's nipple again. This time, the hunter didn't pull away. Gently, he flicked his tongue out across the deep pink flesh, testing the other man's reaction. Daryl met his eyes and nodded once.

Encouraged by the unquestionable symbol of Daryl's approval, Rick turned tongue into teeth, taking Daryl's nipple between them. The hunter whimpered quietly.

“Shh.” Rick thought about everyone out there in the cell block—Carol coming up with her lesson for 'story time,' Maggie and Glenn snuggling in some dark corner, Beth carting Judith around like she was just some normal teen they'd hired to babysit. Suddenly, he regretted trying to do this here in Daryl's cell.

But Daryl had his shirt off and there was no way Rick was going to stop the action just to try and move it to somewhere less populated.

He gently moved his jaw, working Daryl's nipple with his teeth and flicking at it with his tongue. The hunter found his curls, taking a handful of them and gripping tightly.

Rick switched off and gave the other side of Daryl's chest the same treatment. And then he alternated back and forth between the two, kissing a trail across Daryl's chest and working each one over and over again until Daryl was a quivering mess in his arms.

“C'mon,” Rick coaxed, leading him the short distance to his own cot and laying him down on it. With only the faintest tremble of nerves, he crawled on top of Daryl, licking a trail up the middle of his body until he found his mouth. He hesitated.

“What's wrong?” Daryl asked. Rick shook his head.

“Just wanna make sure I remember this,” he said, and then he leaned down and covered Daryl's mouth with his. And God, at first it was horrible and sloppy and wet, and he was pretty sure Daryl had never kissed anyone in his life.

But just like their lives together, chaos quickly melted into harmony. And Rick kissed Daryl like he was trying to make up for every single time he'd thought of the other man and said nothing, for every time he'd brushed his elbow just to feel him there, for every wet dream and every dry one.

And then he kissed him some more, pressing their bodies together and rolling his hips into Daryl's like his life depended on it.

“Rick.” Daryl broke the kiss to sigh out against his cheek.

“That feel good?” Rick asked, trying to make sure the bulge in his jeans was lined up properly with the one in Daryl's.

Daryl nodded, reaching down and cupping Rick's butt through the fabric, pulling and tugging and encouraging him to rut harder.

“I don't know if I'm gonna last for...”

“Don't have to. We've got plenty of time,” Rick said. And then Daryl's hands flew to his shoulders, and he stopped Rick cold.

“Do it.”

“What?” Rick asked.

“You said we got time, but we don't. Every time one of us leaves that damn fence, we almost die, and sometimes we ain't even gotta leave it,” Daryl said. “If I get bit on my hunt tomorrow and the last fucking thing I think about is you tellin me we got plenty of time...” Daryl started tugging aggressively at the buttons on Rick's shirt.

“Easy,” Rick said. But he stood up and started stripping anyway, dropping his belt to the floor and quickly liberating himself of every article of clothing.  

Please for the love of God, don't let anyone try to walk in here without “knocking.” Then again, he was pretty sure Carol was the only other person in the prison who would even have the nerve.

He looked over at Daryl and found him naked on the bed, his hands folded over his erection like he was embarrassed by it. Lightly stroking himself, Rick used his free hand to gently pry Daryl's away before crawling back into the space between his knees.

“Don't have to hide it,” Rick said, looking down at Daryl's cock. Truth be told, it wasn't anything anyone would really consider special. Lengthwise, it was average, and the same could be said about the girth, but it was a pretty damn nice dick all the same. Smooth and flushed with Daryl's arousal.

Rick repositioned himself and leaned down over the other man. Daryl started shaking again in anticipation. But Rick placed his mouth on the other man's stomach instead, peppering it with kisses and little nibbles.

“Rick, please.”

“Alright,” Rick conceded, though that might have been because his own cock was just about tired of being patient too. “Wouldn't happen to have anything slick, would you? Lube? Oil?”

“Yeah,” Daryl said, and he reached under his bed and dug around before producing a small bottle of olive oil. Rick tilted his head in question.

“Trying to keep my bike seat from crackin' in the sun. Didn't want the damn gourmet chefs to find it and haul it off.”

Rick laughed quietly, but Daryl had a point. They were eager to get their hands on just about anything they could use in the massive prison kitchen, and they definitely would've confiscated the oil, especially since it seemed to be one of those high dollar ones that came in the fancy-ass glass bottle and everything.

Rick squeezed a little onto his fingers, and then he paused. He was about to ask if Daryl was even okay with bottoming, but the other man maneuvered up onto his hands and knees without hesitation, and the question died in Rick's throat.

He pressed his oiled up fingers against Daryl's entrance and massaged gently, listening to the way the way the other man's breaths sputtered out of his lungs. 

“You ever done this before?” Daryl asked. “Guess you have since you know what to do.”

“Yeah,” Rick said, managing to slip a finger into Daryl's body.  He didn't mention that some of those befores were with Shane. “You?”

“No,” Daryl said.

“With a woman?”

“No.”

“So I'm your first ever?”

“Don't laugh.”

“Why would I laugh?” Rick asked, leaning down to plant soft kisses on the curves of his ass as he gently worked him open. “I'm the first person to ever touch you. Hopefully the last too.”

“Hope so too,” Daryl said, a little strained.

“Sorry,” Rick said, remembering how it felt that first time he'd ever been opened up. “This is the hard part.”

“S'alright,” Daryl said. “Don't hurt much. Just weird.”

“Here,” Rick said, crooking his finger and feeling around for Daryl's prostate. He found it easily, pressing down on it and rubbing in soft circles.

Daryl groaned quietly at the budding sensation of pleasure, pulling his blanket up to his mouth to help muffle the sound. Rick smiled.

“It'll feel good,” Rick said. “Just gotta get you ready for it.”

Reassured, Daryl nodded vigorously. Rick chanced a second finger, lazily touching himself with his other hand as he went along.

He went slower with Daryl than he ever had with anyone else, but in the end, he got him ready all the same. A little more oil on his own cock, and then he positioned himself, the swollen head of his erection right against Daryl's stretched hole.

“You sure?”

“Please.”

“Anything you want,” Rick said. He took Daryl gently by the hips and entered him, easing into the other man until he was completely buried in his heat. He closed his eyes and let himself revel in the feeling of Daryl surrounding him, of the warm, slick pressure of his body squeezing in from all sides. He waited for a minute, all at once trying both to savor it and to not hurt the other man.

“You just gonna sit there, Rick?” Daryl asked, starting to wriggle back against him impatiently.

“Just memorizing the way you feel, Daryl.” Rick drew himself out and plunged back in, slowly building a rhythm inside of Daryl's body. And each slide in was better than the last, waves of pleasure steadily cresting higher and higher with every single one.

Daryl struggled harder and harder not to moan, practically swallowing an entire corner of his blanket as he stuffed it deeper and deeper into his mouth.

And that Rick could make him do that, make him come so undone just with this...

“You're beautiful.”

Daryl groaned in response.

“I've thought about this so many times. Have you?”

Daryl nodded and pushed back against him, rocking back into every single thrust, gripping his sheets with white knuckles.

“Do you want to finish?”

Daryl nodded faster, pushing back even harder, and Rick had to hazard a guess that at least one person outside of the cell could hear their bodies slapping together as hard as they were going. Hell, the prison cot was even squeaking.

But he couldn't bring himself to care, not with the mounting intensity of the friction building between their bodies.

He reached down and found Daryl with his hand, wrapping his fingers around it. That was all it took for the less-experienced man. One touch and he was spilling himself all over the cot mattress, letting out a rattling groan into the fabric of his blanket.

Rick kept going, watching the way he squirmed with over-stimulation. But he only needed a few more thrusts, a few more moments while Daryl writhed and whimpered. And then he was done too, pulling out quickly and spilling himself onto the backs of Daryl's thighs. Daryl sighed with relief and let the drool-soaked blanket fall out of his mouth.

Rick didn't know what to clean him up with, so he settled for the already filthy sheet, mopping his orgasm off of Daryl's legs. As soon as he was done, Daryl flopped onto his back, his chest still rising and falling a little too quickly. Rick laid down beside him, the two of them pressed against each other on the small cot. He could feel a little bit of the wetness from Daryl's orgasm beneath him, and he subtly shifted to feel the moisture trailing across his skin.

“Guess I finally see what all the fuss was about,” Daryl said.

“Sex, you mean?”

“Mhm.”

“Take it you enjoyed it then.”

“Didn't think I was missin nothin. Figured it wouldn't feel no different than jerkin off.”

“I enjoyed it too,” Rick said. “Lot better than all the times I imagined it anyway.”

“Can't believe you'd wanna imagine it with me. That you'd wanna...”

“Can't believe it even though I just did?”

Daryl didn't say anything, just laid beside him for a while chewing on the insides of his lips. Rick let his eyes close, enjoying the light floating feeling of the afterglow melted together with the soft warmth of Daryl's skin against his.

“Guess I better get dressed and go check the snares,” Daryl said finally. Rick didn't even open his eyes to answer.

“What's the hurry?”

“Just figured we both got stuff to do, and you're done now, so...”

“Who said I'm done?” Rick asked, turning his head and opening his eyes to find a matching set of blue quickly averting their gaze.

“Ain't that how it works?”

“How what works?”

“Sex.”

“Maybe,” Rick said. “But I feel like you gotta know that's not all this is for me.”

“No?”

“Daryl, look at me.”

Slowly, Daryl met his eyes. Rick leaned in and gave him a gentle kiss, holding Daryl's chin with his fingers.

“I'm gonna tell you the truth now,” Rick said, keeping his eyes locked on the other man's, “because I should've done it already. Are you listening?”

“Mhm.”

Rick swallowed and took a deep breath. Please don't run. Please don't run. Please don't run.

“I love you. I want you, not just like this. In every way possible.” Rick stroked a bit of hair back out of Daryl's eyes. “I don't know how long any of us have. But however long it is, I want it with you.”

Daryl's eyes fell back away from his own, and Rick waited for a reply. But the hunter didn't say anything.

“Is that what you want, Daryl?”

Daryl fidgeted a little and then nodded.

“Good,” Rick said, patting the center of his chest. The hunter shifted and laid his head down right over Rick's slowing heart, his dark hair tickling the leader's skin.

“Let me hold you a little while, and then we'll go check them together. If I have to hear one more complaint about how we're out of oregano or need some scented candles to liven the place up, I'm going to throw myself off the catwalk.”

“Sounds good,” Daryl said. “I can finally show you how to tie those knots you've been askin about.”

“And then maybe we can think of some creative ways to use them.”

Daryl laughed softly and settled in, finding Rick's hand with his and lacing them together.

“What you said a minute ago,” Daryl said, playing with Rick's fingers. “Bout how you feel. Me too.”

Rick smiled softly and leaned down to kiss the top of his head.

“Good,” Rick said. “That's good, Daryl. Real good.”

And maybe the Woodbury people were driving him up the wall. And maybe he'd watched too many fucking people die. And maybe the world outside the prison was still vicious and morbid and cold.

But despite all that, it had given him Daryl. And with the hunter's body warming all of his limbs, it was hard to be anything but grateful. Fate was a cold hard bitch, but sometimes she apologized in the best ways possible. And Daryl Dixon, well, that was one hell of an apology. 

**Author's Note:**

> P.S. That's completely the wrong way to remove a tick. But it's the way country folk do it (at least around here), so it's the way I'm pretty sure Daryl and Rick would do it. And they don't exactly have the internet to tell them no. If you ever have a tick, don't do this. 
> 
> P.P.S. Yes, I'm still working on a new chapter of AOI. My brain is being unkind so I've been trying to trick it into working by switching back and forth between the new chapter and mostly finished one-shots I've had sitting on my computer for a month.


End file.
